


Fee

by bracketsspacespacebrackets



Series: Fee [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-07 23:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1918905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bracketsspacespacebrackets/pseuds/bracketsspacespacebrackets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the first timeline, which raised the future children, a pair cheated death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Fateful Encounter

Robin sighed and threw her quill onto the tree stump she was using as a make-shift table. Spiderwebs of ink were strung around the parchment, sprawling out messily and glistening wetly.  
  
 _Sprawling out in all the wrong directions…_  
  
She sighed and carefully set the map of scribbles onto the cold rock beside her.  
  
 _I'll be damned if snow doesn't fall within the next hour._  
  
She shook out her long hair.  
  
 _Out of all places it could have been, why damn Regna Ferox?_  
  
Her hand found the edge of a clean piece of parchment and she pulled it out automatically, along with her quill and a new ink bottle.  
  
 _…Better Regna Ferox than Ylisse, I must admit._  
  
A brief outline of the territory was drawn, the quill moving along mechanically.  
  
 _…There is no stronghold left, we must fight to the fin-_  
  
Something -no- someone exploded from out of the snow-dappled shrubbery, throwing leaves and other debris everywhere. She jumped up in alarm and instinctively opened up her _Thoron_ tome, forcing herself to bite down on her lip to stop a yell. It was a man who looked somewhat familiar.  
  
She made eye contact with him a split second before the Risen came out. It was obvious that he was badly hurt, as he struggled to rise from the blood-stained snow. Robin recognised a Risen Sorcerer and Sage instantly and whipped open a page of her weapon. She summarised that he was running from them.  
  
Deciding that the Sage was a bigger threat, she chanted the incantation and turned the magic-user to smoke. The Sorcerer, however, completely ignored the loss of the Sage and continued to aim at the weakened man.  
  
"No!" Robin lunged forwards.  
  
That was when she could've lost her life.  
  
Robin, upon some instinct, ran in the path of the Waste spell and took the blow for him. The dark spell did hit her, but she was not injured. Robin saw the cover of her _Thoron_ pulsing slightly and realised it must've shielded her.  
  
 _So much for conserving resources._  
  
As the second spell was being readied, she flipped to a new page of _Thoron_ and retaliated. The Sorcerer hissed as it was defeated by the lightning and dissipated in the frosty air, much like its companion.  
  
There was no time to savour her victory. Robin immediately crouched down beside the man and gently lifted his face from the snow. He flinched away from her, but not before she recognised him.  
  
"Oh!" Disbelief washed over her pretty features, "You…"  
  
His unruly black hair was even more mattered than she had last seen him. She could hear his laboured breathing and see him trembling.  
  
"Basilio's champion…?" Robin's eyes widened in surprise, "But… I thought… only he, Khan Flavia, and a handful of their soldiers made it out…?"  
  
The champion looked up at her direction, but did not meet her gaze. Or could not. His eyes were ragged with exhaustion and slid in and out of focus.  
  
The woman cursed silently.  
  
 _What the hell am I thinking, in front of me is a damn person who is hanging with their life on the line and here I am asking them pointless questions._  
  
Out came a crisp page of her tome and she fired a massive, glowing, orb into the darkening sky. It streaked through the grey of clouds and was slightly obscured by the falling snow, before erupting into a thousand brilliant shards. Robin turned back to him.  
  
Robin moved his head onto her lap, tenderly stroking his hair and ignoring his quiet complaints. He was in terrible condition. She then took off her heavy tactician's-coat and wrapped it warmly around him.  
  
"Hang in there…"  
  
She fished around her pocket for a vulnerary, but her fingers met only the soft fabric of her coat.  
  
 _Dammit, Stahl…_  
 _"Robin, hurry, the vulnerary….!" Stahl blanched, "Give it to Donnel, he'll bring it to us! Hurry!"_  
  
"Damn, damn, damn, damn!" Her fingernails dug into her palm, "Why?"  
  
He groaned in pain. Robin looked down helplessly. The snow flurried around them, becoming heavier.  
  
"Damn it!"  She scavenged through her other pockets, "Please, no, please…"  
  
Shivering, she put her hands to his face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, as she watched his eyes closed.  
  
 _Death, death around every corner, lurking in the unknown. Death, unescapable._  
  
"No, stay awake, please, please!" Robin elevated his head desperately, "Please, I promise you will be safe soon, please…"  
  
She felt him become heavier, as he succumbed to his wounds.  
  
"No… please, no!"


	2. Basilio's Champion

_"If my hypothesis is correct and if I take into account all the variables of our previous hostilities, I firmly believe that the long-ranged tome-wielders should be accompanied by the short-ranged physical attackers to minimize the total of physical damage dealt towards them. The reasons are as follows._  
  
_We tome-wielders suffer from reduced physical defenses in comparison to the more physically-orientated attackers. However, I believe that the opposition has at least a single tome-wielder on their side. This gives us another reason to pair up the tome-wielders and our physical attackers. As our physical attackers are unable to withstand many magical attacks, having the more magically resistant tome-wielders 'pair up' with them would mean that when taking either attack, both the tome-wielder and physical attacker benefit from the relationship._  
  
_The flaw in this plan is that our tome-wielders and physical attackers no longer receive boosts to their attacks which they would have received if, for instance, the tome-wielder were paired with the tome-wielder and vice versa. But we must remember that if we partnered the tome-wielder and physical attacker together, both their defenses are strengthened._  
  
_This leads me to my query. I wish to ask whether or not we should customise the Shepherds so they are able to withstand more attacks, magical or physical, to improve their endurance in battle or adapt the Shepherds as to allow them to inflict more damage to our foes." Miriel pushed up her spectacles, "That concludes my report."_  
  
_For a few moments, the planning room was very quiet. The only sound that could be heard was the faint scratching of a quill, as Donnel furiously recorded what the mage had said to parchment. Vaike whistled, obviously impressed._  
  
_"A question, if I may, milady. And a throughly researched plan, if I may be allowed to say so." Frederick nodded approvingly at Miriel, "I believe what was given was the average of what our troops are capable of, so I ask of what shall happen with the anomalies. The anomalies being Lady Sumia, who can take magical attacks, exempt Wind magic and Sir Virion, who is a physical attacker with long-ranging attacks and is incapable of fending off incoming short-ranged attacks."_  
  
_"In interest of emerging victorious from this brawl, I highly recommend Sumia and Virion do not participate in this battle. I believe we were told that no more than six units may enter the Arena. With Chrom being a necessity, we may only choose five Shepherds." Miriel crossed her arms, "I myself, am uncertain of the total number of foes in the opposition, but I can guarantee that we shall be outnumbered, no matter what."_  
  
_Virion scratched his head, "Milady, taking into account our weaknesses and our limited information on our opponents, I suggest the following units enter the Arena: Chrom as the champion accompanied by Sir Frederick, Milady accompanied by the lovely Sully and Stahl paired up with our very own tactician. This way, we are able to follow your plan. However, we are uncertain of the strength of our opponents. Anymore tactics we wish to discuss now may prove useless, so we can only rely on Robin to improvise."_  
  
_Donnel passed a page of notes to him, before taking up the quill again._  
  
_Virion coughed, "The units who remain are as follows: the Princess, who may have to enter the Arena to heal if Robin believes the opponent may inflict too much damage, Yours truly for reasons stated earlier, Vaike, who cannot cover as much distance as our cavaliers, Sumia, who is unlikely to withstand blows and young Donnel here. All of our units, who have been named in this meeting, are subject to change on the day of the tournament."_  
  
_Gloom set in on the Shepherds. They had no information regarding the opposition, other than that they usually won._  
  
_"What are your thoughts on the current situation, Robin?" Chrom looked at her, desperate to break the uneasy silence, "Do you have anything else to add?"_  
  
_Robin stared blankly at the wrinkled floor plan which was laid out in the middle of the table, counters placed in a trapezium formation in the south of the Arena map, with the participants in the battle to be confirmed, Lissa smiled encouragingly at her._  
  
_"… I know what I am about to say is extremely inappropriate in the current situation," She took a deep breath, "but I really need to use to latrines. My deepest apologies, I know I should have gone earlier as I have been needing to go since we got here but I never found the right time to ask and tried to wait it out, but ultimately I have to ask in the worst possible scenario, I apologise again, I jus-"_  
  
_"Robin?" Chrom interrupted, "Spare us the details and just… go."_  
  
_"My deepest apologies." Robin bowed her way out of the room… before letting out the breath she had been holding when the door snapped shut, "Sorry, Chrom, but I need all the Shepherds to confirm my alibi in the event of my capture… Regna Ferox should prove quite a challenge to transverse…"_  
  
_~_  
  
_"Sir, have you heard the news? There is a rumor going around, that East-Khan Flavia has hired Ylissean nobles to fight on her behalf this year." A fighter paused in sharpening his axe, before shaking his head, "I don't know what she's thinking, throwing in some high-nosed tea-sipping nobles into the Arena."_  
  
_A ripple of laughter spread through the company. One man, however, stayed silent. The tournament was serious business, he knew. He had not lost once since he had begun to represent Khan Basilio as his champion and had no intention to do so now._  
  
_A solemn faced mage shook his head, "Not just any Ylissean nobles, I've heard."_  
  
_"It's been said that Prince Chrom himself, younger brother of the Exalt, is among them." His friend next to him flipped the page of his tome, skimming the text idly, "Now… to_ 'Smite thine enemies with fire' _or not to do so… that is the question."_  
  
_"That's even more hopeless. Ylissean royalty!" Another fighter threw up his hands, " Hah, let's hope that they put up quite the show for us. We'll have won before they even have a chance to raise their expensive weapons at us."_  
  
_Claps of approval were heard and the majority of the men were nodding their heads in agreement. The first mage looked uneasily at his friend, who was still debating the topic of whether to bring an_ Elthunder _tome or an_ Elfire _tome to the Arena._  
  
_"I've heard that the Ylisseans defeated the East-Khan's border guards, impromptu." A knight tapped his lance-head thoughtfully, "To think that the Feroxi were beaten in their homeland by strangers makes me think that the Ylisseans are more than 'some high-nosed tea-sipping nobles', Sir."_  
  
_"They will prove themselves to me in combat." The man set down his blade and stood, "I am heading to the Arena."_  
  
_"Of course, Sir… shall we accompany you?" All the units dropped their weapons, "We need to rehearse the ceremony for the West-Khan's continued reign of Regna Ferox."_  
  
_He sighed at the naïvety of his band. They were fools to believe victory was assured. "Very well."_  
  
_A freezing gust of wind, that ran into the room as the door opened, reminded them about the loss of the warm fireplace as they headed for the Arena. Outside, a snowstorm ravaged the land. There was nothing to be seen out of the windows, as the little towns and villages were obscured by white._  
  
_The man bumped into a hooded figure who bustled past. He mumbled an apology before proceeding._  
  
_Just as the Arena was in sight, he realised that none of his comrades were with him. After muttering a curse, he retraced his steps to find them making a hullabaloo over a tall woman in a purple coat. He waited silently for them to finish fawning over the woman._  
  
_The woman was visibly annoyed at the attention she was receiving from the men. Judging from her eloquent speech, she was foreign to Regna Ferox's rough and forward mannerisms._  
  
_One of his fighters had cornered her and had rested a hand against the wall to block off any escape route._  
  
_"Are you sure?" He was whispering, "Then how do you feel about having a drink with us?"_  
  
_"I do not like alcohol." The woman replied curtly, "Now, if you will allow me to pass?"_  
  
_The men behind him booed._  
  
_"Come on now, just one drink?" The fighter winked suggestively, "The tavern's nice and warm as well, so there's no need for you to wear that hulking coat there…"_  
  
_The quiet man watched as she unconsciously gripped her cloak at the last statement. He was thoroughly revolted at the behaviour of his men, even though this was a common occurrence, which usually kept him from speaking to them regularly._  
  
_"No thank you. I have places to be, my good Sir." Her patience was wearing thin, "Places to be and things to do, without you."_  
  
_Without another word, she pushed the fighter's arm out of her way and stalked off. She brushed past the taciturn man, who flinched, before catching her eye._  
  
The eyes of Grima adorned the arms of her cloak.  
  
_Instinctively, he reached out to grab her arm. Instead, his hand met nothing but air. She had dodged behind him._  
  
_"… You."_  
  
_He did not dare to make another move. She was undoubtedly wary of him, now._  
  
_"… You are a spy." He swallowed nervously when she cocked her head to the side in mock confusion, her back still turned._  
  
_The men behind him were perplexed._  
  
_"I am afraid I do not understand." She shrugged, nonchalant, "For what reason do I arouse your suspicions, Sir?"_  
  
_"Your robes." He answered tersely, "They are… of Plegian origin."_  
  
_"… Pay no heed. The tournament draws ever closer. It is only natural to encounter one foreign to Regna Ferox."_  
  
_With those words, she threw her hood back on._  
  
_"Such as you."_  
  
_~_  
  
_"Robin's taking an awfully long time in the latrines, don't you think?" Lissa twiddled with her pigtails, "You think she's doing a b-"_  
  
_Frederick coughed, "Milady, princesses do not often speak of others… business behind their backs."_  
  
_~_  
  
_The tournament was beginning. He and his comrades stood, standing by their chosen station. As the previous year's champions, they were permitted to enter the first and choose where they would prefer to fight._  
  
_Already, the crowd was whistling their approval and clapping. When the opposition entered the Arena, the spectators grew into an uproar. The Ylisseans were initially quite overwhelmed by the amount of noise that was blaring at them, but they regained their confidence when a blue haired man lifted his blade and shouted something inaudible to them._  
  
_Watching with great interest as they huddled together, he wondered if they were discussing tactics. It was popular belief here that there was no need for a tactician, as battles in Ferox were usually fought purely by instinct. This would be an interesting fight, as he did not often have the chance to face off against organised foes._  
  
_Then, the tournament began. Gazing on from afar, he saw an exceptionally powerful cavalry in blue armour smash through the first of two fighters, accompanied by a young girl in ridiculous garb. His mages ran in soon afterwards. Although one was crushed by the same knight, he managed to deal some major damage to the mounted unit, who staggered backwards for healing._  
  
_Rising fast through the centre of the Arena, was the East-Khan's champion. Prince Chrom. The other man was in midst of a fight with his knight, so it was difficult to see him clearly. He turned his attention away from the champion._  
  
_Taking care of the other fighter, near the entrance of the Arena, was a duo consisting of a green and a red cavalry. After, taking almost lethal damage from his_ Elthunder _mage, they too brought the his fighter down to his knees. He knew the two cavalry would not be fighting for the remaining portion of the tournament unless they received healing from the silly cleric tending to the blue knight._  
  
_At last, he saw the Prince fighting within range. The man was oblivious to his surrounding, focusing only on trying to knock a fighter unconscious. It was time for him to fight._  
  
_He closed in on Flavia's champion, jumping into the air and watching as the man's blue eyes widened with horror. His blade sank into metal plating of the Prince's shoulder guard, before it withdrew as he leapt back to avoid his foe's own sword. The heavy sword Prince Chrom wielded was very different to his own Killing Edge, which was lightweight and slender._  
  
_No matter._  
  
_Smirking, he slashed the Prince, dodged the slow retaliation, before readying his sword for a second attack. Then, a blast of_ Arcthunder _threw him off his feet. The roars of the spectators could be heard through the smoke that shielded the magic-user from his eyes. Injured and bleeding from several places, he saw the Prince was still within striking distance. Forcing himself to take off once more, he made to struck the Ylissean again._  
  
_Again, he felt something. Someone shielded the Prince, with a barrier pulsing from the very same tome. Again, the audience howled with excitement, as the other units fought all around the Arena. As he backed off, the smoke began to clear. He was graced by the sight of a midnight cloak adorned with the eyes of Grima flashing in a radiant violet._  
  
It was _her._  
  
_For the first time, he saw the face of the hooded woman in the corridor. Framing her porcelain face were ebony locks of hair, with what little hair that was tied kept at the back of her head, the rest flowing down to her shoulders and onto her back. Her unusual red eyes glittered with anticipation._  
  
_"My liege, return to Lissa for healing, now. If we lose you, the tournament is lost." The Prince looked as though her wanted to protest, but he clamped his mouth shut and retreated._  
  
_The Prince was far behind the woman, who flipped open her tome and sent a crackling bolt of lightning at him. He dodged at the last moment and charged at her through the debris, twisting his sword into her abdomen. The sickly warmth of blood spurted all over the hilt of his sword and onto his fingertips._  
  
_She pulled herself off the blade and fell to the ground, gasping in agony. Already, a pool of blood was gathering around her. Positioning himself above her, he tried to drive his sword through her neck, but the woman glaring at him was extremely unsettling. He knew the Ylissean Prince was watching and he heard the man changing direction midway to run back towards the woman he left behind._  
  
_He knew he could slit her throat before the Prince reached them. But, there was little purpose in killing the woman. She was not even the champion, just one of his units. There was no need for her die. Instead, the man raised his sword and stabbed the floor next to her neck, holding his blade steady and watching as her eyes widened in surprise._  
  
_"No, not you, Robin!" Prince Chrom shouted, "How dare you!"_  
  
_The man dodged a clumsy blow from Falchion. With the woman gone and the champion's fighting fueled only by rage, he knew it was only a matter of time before the Prince tired himself out. Nicking the Prince's arm and forcing him up against the Arena wall by sword point, the tournament was over when the other man growled a surrender._  
  
_With the sound of cheers erupting from all sides of the Arena, Basilio's champion removed his sword from the Prince's throat and thrust it skywards. He walked to the centre of the Arena and raised both of his arms in victory. All around him, his fighters, picked up their own weapons and cheered. The mages fired impressive displays of magic in celebration, bolstering the level of excitement present in the already exhilarated audience._  
  
_"Open your eyes! Damn it, OPEN YOUR EYES!" He could hear the Prince trying to rouse the woman._  
  
_The Ylisseans approached Prince Chrom and helped lift the woman out of the Arena. He realised that he was trembling. For what reason, he did not know. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he bowed when Basilio approached him._  
  
_The continued reign of the West-Khan meant that he would have to supervise Basilio in the night's celebrations to ensure that the Khan did not drink himself to death…_  



End file.
